Survive to Fight
by Anake14
Summary: Things would be so much easier if the world just got along, or if there was only one representative. America fights to stop a plot that would destroy the foundations of the world, no matter the cost. Prequel to Regrets.
1. Chapter 1

Survive to Fight

Summary: Things would be so much easier if the world just got along, or if there was only one representative. America fights to stop a plot that would destroy the foundations of the world, no matter the cost. Prequel to Regrets.

Warning: Major Character Death

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 1: Bittersweet Endings

England coughed up blood, his hand reaching for America as he pushed his book about old magick towards him.

"You must…fight…America. You're…good at that. Don't…let…him…wi-…"

America could feel the traitorous tears prickling at the edge of his eyes. It wasn't fair, England…England was gone and it was all his fault! If England hadn't been trying to protect him, if Canada had been more noticeable…he crumpled to the ground and sobbed clutching England's precious magic book to his chest, the dull eyes of his love staring at him unseeing, his brother's body not far off.

He could remember days they spent together when America and Canada had just been colonies, bedtime stories, the awful food he ate because England was always so happy when he did, England watching them play, taking care of them when they were sick. Memories of the wars, Revolutionary, Manifest Destiny, Civil, WWI, WWII, and the rest filtered through and America wonders how they had survived this long.

He felt like he couldn't breathe and his chest it hurt so much, how did anyone bear the pain? Was this what it felt like for a heart to break? The chest that burns but feels so cold, the emptiness and loneliness, and the total loss of connection?

He could hardly understand why anyone would _want_ to fall in love. But he had heard that it could be something beautiful. That it was something to cherish and worth remembering and he did. Every moment with England he was happy, even when he felt hurt by the other, he was just so happy the other man bothered to speak with him at all it hardly mattered. Who cared if he went home and cried later because the man would point out his flaws and tore him apart with everything he stood for?

…But he did care. It hurt so much, everyday, and now the man had just _died_ for him...all he wanted to do was die with him.

But he had to live. England wanted him to live. To fight. To win. He stood and wiped his tears away. He had work to do. He who fights to run away lives to fight another day. He would fight another day, he would fight over and over if he had to in order to protect the others. He would suffer for them. All he had to do was find the answers. Maybe Mother and the Spirits would help.


	2. Chapter 2

Survive to Fight

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 2: The Spirits and the Deal

When America left he didn't look back, because if he had his resolve would have crumbled and he would have given in to the aching loneliness that filled his heart. England, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Mexico, Cuba, and many others had already fallen. He could feel himself slowly slipping away as well.

He called a meeting to in his lands, the Asian nations were part of the few left if only because North Korea still valued his family to some extent.

China arrived with Japan, both looking weary. Following them came South Korea, Vietnam, Russia, Philippines, Malaysia, and a few other countries that had yet to give in to the sickness that was permeating the lands.

"You called us here America-san?" Japan asked, for once he looked tired to match how he felt about his age.

America nodded. "England, Canada and I had gone on a search to seek out an answer, something that might save the nations and their people. Shortly after finding something of use, Canada and England collapsed. They are gone," he said gravely. His eyes held no tears, he had cried and used all his grief to finding the answer.

"What is plan, aru?" China asked warily. "You would not have called if there was none."

America stared at them all. "I can fix this. I can, but I need your family to talk to North Korea, distract him while I go. Either way all of us may die, but at least if the plan works we have a chance."

"And you will not tell us the plan?" Japan asked.

America shook his head sadly. "The less you know the better. In the event this is the last any of us see each other again…I'm glad I got to know all of you."

There were words of agreement, but America walked out the door and left. He headed for the lands, his forests and Native American areas that were still protected. He sought out the caves that his mother had shown him almost a millennia ago.

"It has been a long time since you have come here, little one."

There she was, still as beautiful as ever, her skin a shade darker than his own, her brown eyes shining with intelligence and wisdom beyond years, her long black hair pulled back into a braid, standing there wearing and old deer skin ceremonial dress.

"I have missed you…mother."

She nodded her head and stared at him. "The world ails and you seek counsel."

He nodded in agreement. "The spirits hold counsel that could save all."

"There will be a price."

"I will pay it."

She smiled at him. "You have grown, my son. I almost regret letting that foreigner corrupt you."

"I needed him as much as he needed me. The spirits would not have led me to him without reason."

She tilted her head. "The spirits oft meddle where they ought not. But for you, little one, there is favor."

"If they did not life just might be boring," he said with a smile.

She did not return it, her lips drawn into a small frown. "The price may cost more than you are willing to lose," she warned. "Are you prepared to handle that? Even if it is all you hold dear?"

"So long as I am the only one who need pay it," he answered.

"It doesn't work that way."

"It doesn't," he agreed, "but I would take all the suffering so that the others dare not know."

She smiled then. "I am proud of you, my son, my America. I am proud of who you, your brother, and the others have become. Never fear that you are alone."

She left him alone. He began chanting, old words flowing from his tongue knowledge of a language long forgotten. The spirits began to appear, the earth began to pulse and he could feel the crackle of electricity in the air. Time itself ground to a halt at the amount of power being pulled into one area.

_**You have called upon the powers of old.**_

"I have a request, I would you hear."

_**Speak and be heard.**_

"I request a way to save this world. It is falling to ruin and I would not that all suffer because of a dispute created by myself and another."

_**We shall confer.**_

Time did not move, but if it had America felt that it moved slowly. He could hardly believe they were willing to consider his request, let alone without him having to say more.

_**These lands are old, we grow weary, but your request can be answered.**_

He let out a sigh of relief, but they continued speaking.

_**The price, will be the souls of the nations.**_

"What does that mean?"

_**Human you represent, human you shall be, souls recycled in time for thee.**_

"They lose their immortality?"

_**Time is relevant, the end will draw once more, but you will remember all and seek the chance for the end, but end will be not what you think and choice will be yours, Child of Spirits.**_

"Child of Spirits?"

_**You are he who remembers all, ours but not, who seeks and longs, who sees and not. One life or many, you shall remember for which you desire.**_

"I will accept this price, so long as the world lives."

_**And so it shall, price to be owed and price to be paid, your request we shall grant though not expected the way.**_

The world around him spun black, America never had the chance to question the spirits of what was happening, what would happen to the other or if they lived. All he knew was darkness, never knowing that around the world a pulse of magic took the souls of the nations, the micronations, and nations of old, giving them new life with new purpose.

The spirits shared glances, feeling the old magic leaving the area where it had expanded and exploded in energy that was felt around the world, a single thought flowing through them all.

_**So it begins and one day shall end.**_


	3. Chapter 3

Survive to Fight

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 3: A Need to Belong

Alfred F. Jones stared at himself in the mirror. At 19 years old he was hailed a prodigy, he and numerous others across the world, but he was different. Alfred F. Jones had once been the personification of _America_, he had once spoken every language in the world with ease, he had fought in numerous wars, he had lived and fought for nearly all his life, and now he stood in front of a mirror about to take a role in politics he had never dreamed of. As a nation he could never be a leader, in fact he had been quite content with his role of running the government without having to be a face.

That was no longer an option. He highly doubted it ever would be again.

He felt old. Weary, as he carried around the secret of the world in his mind knowing that if he should ever meet the people he used to call friends and colleagues they wouldn't know, they wouldn't remember him and all they had lived through before.

It hurt. It hurt to remember a whole other life that had belonged to him and yet no one else did. No the history of the nations and the memory of their positions had been completely eradicated from even the oldest files of government history according to the spirits that he had contacted as soon as he realized the horrifying nightmares and dreams he'd had were actually _real_.

It hurt to remember he had a brother who no longer knew him, that he had had some semblance of a family and rivalry and friendships and it was gone. The first thing he had done was wept. He had cried at his own stupidity for daring to think it would end that the world could survive without him when in fact it would be him to fix everything and he would have to do it as a _human_ in order for it to matter. He had cried out of frustration and fear that he wouldn't be able to do it at all and he had lost everything on a small chance of hope that he didn't feel anymore.

He had felt _hope_ blossom when he had seen Arthur Kirkland, prodigy politician of the United Kingdom who was about to become Prime Minister, on the television and remembered _England_. He had known then he had to do something. He had to prove he could be a hero, he could save this world, If England existed in the form of a young man from the United Kingdom, and the others surely existed in their nationalities as well. Maybe he could bring back together their dysfunctional and wide spread family.

He needed them. He needed to feel like he belonged somewhere again. He looked at humans and saw all their _potential_ but he didn't feel like he was one. He still possessed an enormous amount of the qualities that had made him a nation. He still had the knowledge, he had less strength but was still stronger than average, and he still had a purpose that drove nations and had brought some nations to their knees.

He looked at himself and saw old eyes on a young face. He looked at himself and saw Alfred F. Jones, child prodigy politician who would step out onto the platform and become President of the United States of America. He looked at himself and saw the reflection of a nation, of _America_, who would do anything for the benefit of others. He looked at himself and saw someone lonely and set so far apart from others he wondered if he would even have the strength to fight and save the world from the problems that had begun with nations and were sure to end some.

He stared in the mirror and thought of Canada, England, France, Japan, Lithuania, Greece, Sealand, Russia, Belarus, Spain, Germany, Italy, and all the other nations that he had failed and let down when he had been one because he had been so sure of himself that he hadn't thought of a time where they would pay the consequences for _his_ failure. He thought of the people in the world who would never know his sacrifice if he managed to fix everything and he _smiled_.

No one would know that a man who had once been a self-proclaimed hero had died to fix mistakes.

No one would know the man that fought for what he thought was right.

No one would be aware of his love for a man who no longer existed.

No one would know that Alfred F. Jones was America.

No one would know how he was a disappointment.

No one would know about his failure.

All they would see is a man determined to help his country and the others.

All they would see is a man who was confident and self-aware.

All they would see is a young prodigy taking the pedestal of what all Americans should stand for.

Alfred F. Jones did what he had done best as America. He put on a fake smile and walked out of his room and into chaos about to speak words that would change the world. He smiled and pretended he didn't have a single worry. He smiled in that charming and charismatic way, his eyes alight with mischief as if he knew something no one else did, looking like he belonged there even if he didn't feel like it, and let his grin widened as he let the words of the speaker wash over him.

"…proud to present Alfred F. Jones, your new President of the United States of America."

He stepped out to the flashes of cameras and not once did he give away his true emotions. He would never show these people that he felt like he didn't belong. Somewhere all across the world he had a family, that was the only place he felt he needed to belong. One day he would get it back, but for now, that could wait.


End file.
